


Confined Spaces

by CaelumLapis



Series: Gotham [3]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers: General for Batman: A Death in the Family.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaelumLapis/pseuds/CaelumLapis
Summary: He hasn’t seen Tim. He’s not looking for Batman.
Series: Gotham [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785148
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Confined Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer is, I don’t own them, not even a little.

Gotham is Blüdhaven’s older sister, in more ways than Dick can define. She’s got harder edges, older features, and a glimmer under the grit that coats her skin. He’s missed her. The city night is a crisp, sharp breeze against his face as he swings through it. That will never stop being the best part of Gotham.

The cave is dark, narrow corners with shadows of Robins past. There’s a natural tendency to pause at Jason’s case. He doesn’t fight the urge. 

There’s a slow burn in Dick’s chest, echo of Alfred’s polite smile and the hopeful twinkle in his eyes. He halts again at the mats and stretches into the burn, working out the kinks in so many things beyond muscle. Being back is complicated. 

He hasn’t seen Tim. He’s not looking for Batman. 

~~~

Dick spins to kick and Tim is there to block it, without a sound. He lowers his leg to the mat, breathes in fast and lets it out slowly. Tim’s watching. Waiting. 

“Little brother.” 

It slips out and sounds like an apology. He’s been gone long enough that it could be one. Tim tilts his head for just a moment and then drops to his knees, burying his face against the front of Dick’s sweats. 

Dick would back away, but he’s forgotten the reasons he _should_. Tim’s breath is hot against the cloth, soaking moisture in until he can feel it. Dick fights the questions he should be asking, staring at Tim. Feeling the cave close in around them. 

His sweats slide down, Tim’s gauntlets curling into the waistband. Dick is–should be–fighting this. Harder. When Tim’s mouth opens, Dick closes his eyes and sinks into the heat, swallows what he was working on asking. Saying. Bites into the back of his fist to muffle the whimpers. 

Tim pulls off with an obscenely loud, wet sound. Dick can feel the flex of his fist, rhythmic and tight, hard enough to inch beyond pure sensation and into the edges of pain. 

It is–he could. Say something. “Nngh.” Something else. “ _Tim_.”

Tim’s eyes are hidden behind the lenses, ruddy lips shiny with spit. His eyebrow rises slowly over the mask. “No,” he answers.

Dick wasn’t asking and _fuck_. Wet heat with a light graze of teeth, and he can’t _think_. He pushes into Tim’s throat and rides the flex of muscle there until he comes, gritting his teeth against the groans.

It’s quiet when the humming in his ears finally ends. Tim moves away, still and silent as Dick sucks in air and works to calm the restless thumping in his chest.

“What–” 

Tim’s lips glisten, reflecting the light from the consoles. “Welcome home.” A rustle of cape and he’s gone. 

Slow ache returns to his chest and Dick’s back in his sweats, focusing on the flex in his arms and down his back. He spins into the next kick, and waits for Batman.


End file.
